


Among The Trees, The Fallen Rise Again

by GoingKnowhere



Category: Pete's Dragon (2016), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Actor!Jim Kirk, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gossip, Logger!Bones, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secrets, Slow Build, Swearing, bones is a logger, let's buy some plants, let's run away from our problems, not really a full crossover, which means no dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoingKnowhere/pseuds/GoingKnowhere
Summary: “It does beg the question: What falls faster? Trees? Or stars?”





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> And here’s the McKirk, Star Trek x Pete’s Dragon crossover, modern!AU that no one has asked for!! :D
> 
> Now be warned, it’s not a full on crossover. I just used bits and pieces from both to create this modern!AU. I started this idea back around November, planned it out, got some done, and then set it aside for the time being. The first part I was pleased with, but the next few I’m going back over before I proceed on with it. I’m just really excited about this and I can’t wait to share more :D

**Among The Trees, The Fallen Rise Again**

 

The loose gravel crunched under the wheels of the ancient pickup as the driver slowly maneuvered it into the cramped clearing. Throwing the truck into park, he peered out the windows at the forest – both felled and not – surrounding him.

 

It was only eight in the morning and already the brunet was the last to arrive. The crew – with their dusty, yellow hard-hats – weaved their way around the large machines and trees as they loaded up the freshly cut logs. Looking out the windshield he could see his business partner and friend, red hard-hat sat crookedly a top his head, twisting a map around in his hands. He grabbed his own dirty, scuffed hard-hat and exited the vehicle. The slamming of the driver’s side door caught the man’s attention and he waved as the brunet walked closer.

 

“Oy, Len!” The Scottish brogue could just barely be heard above the loud engines. “‘Bout time ya showed up!”

 

Len nodded a greeting as he came to stand next to the Scotsman. “Sorry, Scotty! Alarm didn’t go off on time,” he drawled. “Though it doesn’t seem to have affected the work ethics of everyone here.”

 

“Aye! If they keep it up, we’ll be a head of schedule,” he said with a bright grin; one Leonard couldn’t help but return. Though it quickly fell with the next words out of the Scott’s mouth. “Oh, did ya hear about tha’ cabin? Tha’ one ya been droolin’ over?” Len shook his head. “Oh? Well, it sold.”

 

Len’s heart stopped. “It sold?!?”

 

“Aye. ‘Bout two days ago. Sorry, mate.”

 

Len sighed. The cabin had been his dream home second he saw it being built, but – like most dream homes – it was way too far out of his price range. Len took the map from Scotty and checked over their per-determined area, ignoring the man’s look of pity. He might as well throw his focus into work.

 

The DNR and the Enterprise Logging and Milling Company had a signed agreement. They could come in and cut down trees in different state parks, but only in areas specified and mapped by the DNR. Len and Scotty took great care in respecting the defined areas because, should they cut a healthy tree outside of their area, the agreement would be ended and the company would have to look elsewhere for work. More specifically, somewhere farther away from home. The only time they could remove a tree outside the per-determined area was if a park ranger gave the 'okay’ to remove it.

 

If an area was fully cleared, they were required to go back and spread various seeds in the exposed dirt to encourage new forest growth.

 

“So,” Len began, glancing up from the map and eyeing Scotty. “Gaila show up yet?”

 

The Scotsman blushed. “N-no. The Lass has yet to make an appearance today.”

 

Len chuckled and looked around the area. He had no doubt the head-strong park ranger would show up at some point; she’d been showing up nearly every day they’d been at the park.

 

She claimed it was because someone needed to watch them.

 

The way she focused most of her attention on Scotty told another story.

 

Not that Scotty knew it, but the entire crew had a pool going as to when they would stop dancing around each other and start dating.

 

He and Scotty got to discussing which trees should be felled next and, about ten minutes in, Len felt eyes watching him. He scanned the site as Scotty chattered on and paused when he got to the steep slope nearby.

 

“Hey, Scotty,” he interrupted. Drawing Scotty’s attention, he nodded to where he was looking. “Who’s that?”

 

From what Len could tell, it was a man. In dark jeans and a black hoodie, he stood leaning up against one of the trees near the edge of the slope with a backpack set down by his feet. The man’s face was obstructed by the fancy black camera he was using.

 

A camera pointed right at Len and Scotty.

 

Scotty shook his head and turned to Len, confused. “I dunno, never seem 'im before.”

 

Len handed back the map, not taking his eyes off the man. “I’m gonna go see what he wants.”

 

He had a strange feeling about the stranger.

 

Whether that feeling was good or bad, well, he had yet to find out.

 

_…to be continued_


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s Part Two! And we are finally introducing Jim! This and the next few parts will focus on Jim. I debated on combining them all together, but decided against it. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

**Among The Trees, The Fallen Rise Again || Part Two**

 

 

> _**WELCOME TO MILLHAVEN  
>  ** _ _**POPULATION 770** _

 

“770 people,” the weary blond read as he rolled into the tiny forest town.

 

Good enough.

 

He stopped at the first, and seemingly only, stoplight in the town and squinted down the street. He could see the signs for several small businesses on the main drag, but the one with the most appeal was the one declaring ’ **Millhaven Motel** ’.

 

He slowly drove further along and pulled into the small parking lot, joining the five other vehicles already there. The Millhaven Motel fit the motel stereotype to a ’T’. It was a small, low, ‘U’ shaped building encompassing it’s parking lot. On it’s exterior, ten numbered doors were inset equally around the walls while an eleventh one – placed at the very end on his left – was marked with the sign **'Reception Office’**.

 

The tan building was no Ritz or Hyatt, but it would work.

 

Grabbing his overstuffed, leather duffel bag and – thankfully – dead phone from where he threw it into the back seat, he shuffled down to the Reception Office. The chiller evening air bit through his white t-shirt and jeans and he made a mental note to purchase a jacket while he was here. A strand of bells jingled as he swung the door opened and entered the cramped room. A handful of chairs were lined against the wall to his left and a long desk sat in front of the wall on his left. Another door opposite the entryway displayed an **'Employee’s Only’** sign.

 

All-in-all, the whole place could be described as '50 Shades of Beige’.

 

He reached out and tapped the silver bell sitting on the desk and dropped his bag on the ground. He didn’t have to wait long for the back door to open and reveal a short, blonde woman -

 

_\- platinum blonde hair, as soft as silk between his fingers -_

 

He blinked and took in a short breath at the intruding memory, before rubbing at his eyes and pushing the thoughts away.

 

She gave him a soft smile as she went around the desk, unaware of his inner turmoil.

 

“Evening!” she greeted. “I’m Janice, I help run the motel.” She took a seat and pulled over a guest book. “I’m guessing you’re interested in a room?”

 

“Uh, yes ma'am. Just for a few days.”

 

She raised an elegant eyebrow at him. “Alright, we have six vacancies at the moment. Each room comes with a queen sized bed, a kitchenette, small bathroom, and Wi-Fi. Although, our location may cause your Internet access to be slow. We charge $100 a night.”

 

“Okay, sounds good.” She could have said the room was $5,000 a night and he still would have accepted it. Anything to sleep and get a rest from the hell his mind was keeping at bay.

 

Janice passed over a clipboard and pen. “Excellent! You have a few papers to sign, Mr…,” she trailed off waiting for him to introduce himself.

 

He scratched at his short beard. _Maybe he should grow it out_ _more_ _?_ “Oh, ah, James K– Tiberius. James Tiberius.” She didn’t seem to have noticed his near slip-up as she copied down his name and for that he was grateful.

 

The next few minutes passed quickly as Jim signed the forms and handed over three hundreds. He accepted the key and bid her 'good-night’ before heading down to Room 5.

 

The room certainly looked clean, but, at the moment, Jim didn’t care. Once he locked the door behind him and tossed his bag on the floor, he walked over and collapsed onto the bed – forgoing the decision to change.

 

After driving for nearly 24 hours, taking back road after back road with only a handful of pit stops, all he wanted to do was sleep.

 

He could worry about everything else in the morning.

 

☼

 

Morning came all too soon for the exhausted blond and Jim squinted angrily at the overly bright sunlight streaming in though the open blinds and curtains.

 

He sort of regretted not closing those before falling asleep.

 

The clock on the nightstand read 8:20 A.M. as he drug himself off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, his ten minute shower doing wonders for his alertness. After drying off and dressing in a green, cashmere sweater and dark-wash jeans, he looked over his current accommodations.

 

The room was small – the bed taking up most of the space – and the attached bathroom wasn’t any better. He had two nightstands and lamps, a low dresser with a decent sized TV sat opposite the bed, and a table and two chairs sat in front of the wide window. None of which seemed to be bolted down so Jim considered that a plus; not that he planned on stealing anything.

 

He missed their home – _HIS_ _home_ he thought bitterly. One he couldn’t go back to. A wave of anger surged through him and it took several deep breaths to shove it back down.

 

He focused instead on checking the floor under the bed and a looking under the mattress, after which he had to admit that Nyota would have approved.

 

_Shit! Nyota._

 

Jim groaned and rummaged through his bag for his charger. He plugged in his phone and set it back down on the nightstand. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, but after several days of silence on his end – his stomach soured again at the memories – he supposed he should call her at some point today. Not right now, though.

 

Now he needed to get food and figure out what the hell he was doing.

 

There were several business cards and takeout menus for local Millhaven restaurants and his decision was made pretty fast seeing as only one of them was open this early.

 

☼

 

Located in a brick building just down from the motel, Yorktown was probably the most modern business in town. On the interior, at least. The quaint restaurant reminded Jim of the ones he ate at in the big cities; with shiny black tables and matching chairs, black and white photos of NYC architecture, and dozens of plants growing everywhere.

 

Hipsters would kill to eat at a place like this.

 

Pulling off his sunglasses, Jim heeded the 'Seat Yourself’ sign and picked out a table towards the back of the dinning space. Not that it mattered, the only other diners were three elderly couples who appeared to be having their regular Tuesday breakfast meet-up. Quickly spotting the most private – and most open – seats in a restaurant had become second nature to him over the years.

 

Jim ran a hand over his jaw, still unnerved at the feeling of rough hair there. He couldn’t recall a time where his jaw was covered in anything more than a five o'clock. Leaving it grow would definitely benefit him now, but – even if he had been clean shaven – he highly doubted these people would have recognized him. On the other hand, there was no telling if they had been keeping an eye on the media lately.

 

“Good morning! Welcome to Yorktown!”

 

Jim’s attention snapped back into focus as a young kid laid down a plastic menu in front of him and pulled out a notepad. With a kind face and curly blond hair, Jim guessed he was in his twenties, if not a little younger.  “Can I get you anything to drink while you look over the menu?” His words revealed a Russian accent.

 

“Uh, coffee, please. Black. Regular.”

 

The guy nodded left to grab a pot of coffee and a cup. Once it was poured, the guy stepped back and gave Jim an assessing once-over. “You’re new to this area.”

 

“Yeah, I just got in last night.” Dread started to pool in his stomach. _Not now._

 

“Sorry, it’s just that, I know we haven’t met before, but you look really familiar?” His head tilted in thought, a few curls shifting over his eyes.

 

_Shit._

 

Jim shrugged and tried to play it off. “Eh, it’s not the first time someone’s told me that. Seems I have one of those faces, ya know?” He ended with small laugh. “But, you’re right. I’m not from around here. I live in the city and I needed to get away. Thinking about trying the small town life. James Tiberius, but most people call me Jim.” At the realization of what he said, Jim blinked.

 

He planned on getting away from L.A.; since when was he considering not going back?

 

The kid laughed, cutting through his revelation, and the knot that was forming inside of him started to dissipate. “Yeah, that happens. Oh, I’m Pavel Chekov, by the way. Wish I lived in the city. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice here, but it gets boring. Hopefully I won’t be here too much longer.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He gave an enthusiastic nod, his curls bouncing with the movement. It seems that Jim found a good topic. “Da! I hope to be an actor someday; theater, big screen, I don’t care. I’m trying to save up enough money to move down to L.A.”

 

_Christ Almighty!_ _If he got through this…_

 

He picked up his coffee and took a sip before saying, “Acting? Wow! That’s a tough business to break out in.”

 

Pavel shrugged, sloshing the coffee around in the pot, but Jim felt that nothing could dull this kid’s cheery disposition. “True, but I think it will be worth it in the end. Well, Jim, I’ll give you a few moments to figure out what you want,” he said with another smile before heading over to check on the other patrons.”

 

 

 

The hour that Jim spent at Yorktown turned out to be time well spent in the end. He got the best breakfast platter of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast, and Pavel told him all about the area.

 

From the time of it’s founding to the modern day, Millhaven was a logging town. So much so that every resident has either worked for Enterprise – the local logging and milling company – or has a family member who has. They used to go all over, felling trees and causing a stir in the local wildlife conservation community. That all changed five years ago when the old owners got ousted – due to skimming money and dumping waste – and gained new owners who wished to be more eco friendly. These days they worked in tandem with the DNR and local park services.

 

“My family moved here from Russia when I was a baby. They wanted a new start and felt the small town was the perfect place for it,” Pavel admitted as Jim worked his way through the stack of syrup soaked pancakes. “When I got older, I joined my Papa at the mill, but it just wasn’t for me.”

 

Instead he had gotten a job here, at a newly opened Yorktown. The owner, a Miriam Paris, was a local who had moved to New York when she got married, but returned after the death of her husband. The restaurant was started in his memory, a dream of theirs that always got shoved to the side.

 

“Her husband would be pleased,” was Jim’s response.

 

 

 

It was proof, all proof, that the small town was thriving. The logging, the restaurant, the new greenhouse, and all the people gravitating to the town was proof that there was something here to be found. In L.A., there was something as well, but it was all a jumbled mess. It was smothering; everything and everyone piled on top of each other in the heavy city air and harsh memories.

 

Here, Jim felt like he was breathing for the first time. Originally, he had planned to just stay a few days; plot out his next move and become a modern day nomad for a while. The more Pavel talked about Millhaven, the more Jim’s intrigue grew. Maybe his subconscious was onto something.

 

 

“There’s new apartment buildings?” Jim pushed his plate to the side and leaned forward onto the table.

 

“Da,” Pavel chirped. “Just west of here on the edge of town. They aren’t big buildings; they only house four apartments each, but there are two buildings done and third is nearing completion. Of course there’s also two old brick buildings in town that have been converted into apartment buildings. I believe there are still a few openings.”

 

An idea began to form in his head. “I think I might look into those. Do you know who I should contact?”

 

“Da!” He dashed over to the counter and scribbled something down on a piece of paper before darting back and handing over the page. “Here! He does the real estate for the county, but his office is just around the corner. The apartments in town belong to the building owners.” He pointed to the names.

 

He read over the numbers and slipped it in his pocket. “I’ll definitely look into those. Thanks,” he said with an easy smile.

 

The kid glanced down and shrugged. “Don’t mention it. You need the help and I was happy to give it.”

 

Jim asked about a few other places in town before handing over cash to pay for his meal. When Pavel went to attend to some new customers, Jim left a ten on the table for him before waving good-bye to the kid.

 

☼

 

The only thought running through his mind was 'nap’, but Jim’s day was far from done as he wrestled his bags of goodies through his room door. He decided to forgo seeing the realtor today – although he did call and make an appointment for tomorrow, but snack and warm clothes shopping was a necessity.

 

As was finally calling Nyota.

 

He dumped the bags on the floor and unplugged his phone. Flopping down on the bed, he ignored the 30 missed messages and tapped on his agent’s name.

 

She answered on the first ring.

 

“ _JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK WHAT THE HELL!!!!”_

 

Wincing, he ripped the phone away from his ear.

 

“First of all: ow! You don’t have to yell!”

 

“ _I don’t have to yell???_ _I DON’T HAVE TO YELL_ _????_ _JIM, NO ONE’S HEARD FROM YOU IN DAYS_ _!!_ _PEOPLE ARE THINKING YOU_ _’_ _R_ _E_ _DEAD_ _!!_ _I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO YELL RIGHT NOW_ _!”_

 

“Well, you’re talking to me now so can we cut the yelling??”

 

“ _…_ _Will you_ _ **promise**_ _to not go radio silen_ _t_ _on us_ _again_ _,”_ she snipped.

 

Jim sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

 

“Good. I’m holding you to that. Now, what the hell, Jim?”

 

He threw an arm over his eyes and squeezed them shut as tight as he could, the dance of colors a good block from memories. “You saw the news, the photos. You know what happened.” He paused for a few moments, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do they really think I died?”

 

Her sigh sounded through the phone. _“I did._ _And_ _that’s the media, Jim._ _You know how they_ _are_ _.”_

 

“Yeah.” He knew better than most.

 

“ _Which is why I want to hear your story.”_

 

And this was what he was trying to avoid.

 

“I know…”

 

“ _…And??”_

 

“I’ve – uh – been trying not to think about it.”

 

“ _…Do Spock and I need to come over and help you process it?”_

 

He squirmed on the bed.

 

“Umm, about that…”

 

“ _Jim…”_ Her voice took on a dangerous edge. _“_ _What did you do?”_

 

“I’m…ya know…sort of…not in L.A.”

 

“ _Where ’ **not** in L.A.’ are you?”_

 

“If I tell you are you going to track me down and drag me back to that shitty city with it’s shitty people?”

 

“ _Jim…”_

 

“Then, no, I’m not going to tell you.”

 

“ _Jiiim!”_

 

“Nyyyy!”

 

“ _Jim, be serious.”_

 

“I am serious, Ny!” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I…I need some time and I can’t get that there.” The _'where they are’_ was left out, but they both new it was implied.

 

“ _So you just ran?”_

 

He sat up on the bed. _Is she serious right now?_ “No! I didn’t just run! I spent FOUR DAYS in hell after I had that SHIT _dumped on me_! Four days, Nyota! And do you know the real kicker?”

 

Oh, the flood gates had opened.

 

And there was no dam for the tidal wave.

 

“I found out from a _fucking pap_ who cornered me outside a Trader Joes!”

 

She gasped. _“No!”_

 

“Oooooh, yes!” He clenched his fist to stop the shaking. The photos re-burning themselves into his eyelids. “And then it was everywhere no matter where the fuck I was.”

 

“ _Shit, Jim. I’m sorry.”_

 

He flopped back and pressed his fist into his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah. So, I left. I packed a bag, rented a car, and drove until I got to this tiny-ass town in the middle of nowhere.”

 

“ _Has it helped?”_

 

“I don’t know; I haven’t given myself a chance to really think about it.” At least, not willingly.

 

Nyota was silent for a moment. _“_ _Do you think it will help?”_

 

He let his arm drop back to the bed and stared up at the white ceiling. “I don’t know.”

 

She gave another sigh. _“Do you promise not to let this drag on?”_

 

“I won’t let that happen.” Maybe. Delaying it sounds very nice.

 

“ _Good. Then just keep us updated.”_

 

_In that case.._

 

“…Then I guess I should tell you that I’m gonna get a place here.”

 

“ _JIM!”_


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a while since I've updated this :P
> 
> Sorry about that!
> 
> It’s not the longest of updates, but it does give a little more on what’s happening. Not to mention that we get a tiny peek at what’s happening in L.A. ;)

**_Among The Trees, The Fallen Rise Again || Part Three_ **

 

The soft sound of classical music and the bitter scent of freshly brewed coffee reached Jim’s senses as he opened the door to the small business.

 

It had taken him twenty minutes yesterday to convince Ny that getting a place outside of L.A. would be beneficial to his well-being. Naturally, she had been less than pleased at his announcement. When paired with the recent shit-storm, she claimed the decision was a rash one and that he was simply trying to runaway from the problem. The only reason she relented was when Spock showed up and agreed with his points.

 

Honestly, she was partially right, but  _only_  partially. Jim had been contemplating taking a break from the lime-light for some time now. He just never acted on it due to there always being one more thing he needed to do. One more event. One more interview. One more part.

 

And now that he found himself with an uncomfortable amount of free time…

 

Well…He really didn’t think he wanted to go back.

 

“Mr. Tiberius?”

 

Jim focused to where Janice Rand was perched behind the front desk, watching him with bemusement. “I thought you worked at the motel?” He questioned. Now that he wasn’t sleep deprived he took the opportunity to give the young woman a once over. With her delicate face, crystal blue eyes, and collared black dress, Jim from two weeks ago would have immediately turned up the charm…

 

_\- a flirty smile of crimson lips and pearly teeth -_

 

But now…

 

She gave a short giggle, drawing him away from the intrusive memory. “My family owns the motel so sometimes I step in to help. Most of the time I work here.” She lifted a hand to swipe away a few strands of hair that had escaped her high bun. “I’m guessing you’re Barnett’s 9 o'clock? I thought you were only staying for a few days?” She pinned him with a curious look and he floundered with his story.

 

Thankfully, he was saved from answering by the appearance of who he assumed was Richard Barnett. “Ah, Mr. Kir- Tiberius! Good morning and welcome to Millhaven!” He crossed the space to shake hands and Jim was able to see the apology in the man’s dark eyes, though Jim couldn’t tell if it was due to the near slip, the shit that happened in LA, or maybe a bit of both. In setting up the last minute meeting, Jim was forced to come clean about his true identity; he couldn’t very well invest in property with a poorly fleshed-out fake alias. Luckily Barnett promised to keep his little secret. “It’s always a pleasure to see another fresh-face joining our community.”

 

“Thank you! It’s a lovely town; I’m glad I found it,” Jim responded in kind.

 

“Good to hear!” Barnett nodded and motioned for Jim to follow him. “Come! I have a few properties in mind that I think you’ll be interested in.”

 

☼☼☼

 

“Wow,” Jim breathed out as he leaned against the deck railing, gazing around the near-endless rolling woods around him.

 

The renovated, rent-to-own apartments in town had been great. The two places were decently sized, had a pleasing layout, and had the added bonus of being being both well-lit and within walking distance of nearly everything. They also had enough vintage charm without being overbearingly so. Not to mention that the skylight in the ‘penthouse’ apartment had earned high marks in his book.

 

All together, either one would be a perfect temporary home.

 

The newer apartments, on the other hand, had left something to be desired. Bluntly put, Jim hated 'cookie-cutter’ houses and the bland residences just seemed too confining for his tastes.

 

Jim had mentioned about making an offer on the skylight place when Barnett mentioned one more property on the list; one that he felt was more up Jim’s alley.

 

Barnett wasn’t wrong.

 

Another recent build, the designer definitely had a more wealthy client in mind because 'log cabin’ wasn’t exactly a good description for it; 'log mansion’ was more appropriate.

 

Just by looking at the outside, Jim knew that there was going to be a lot happening inside the home, but he was still blown away by the interior. Standing only two stories tall, with a finished basement and an attic, the sky high ceilings made the red cedar home appear much taller.

 

The first floor had a fairly open floor plan; the grand entry way opening up into a large living space, dinning area, and up-to-date kitchen. There were also doors leading to a half-bath as well as ones for a small pantry, a personal study, and a small library. In the open area, his eyes had been torn between the massive fireplace, the antler chandelier, and the coolest staircase he’d ever seen - a large finished tree trunk, maybe five feet in diameter, that was encompassed by a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. Once there, Jim was greeted to a small loft-like lounge area with a hallway that branched off and lead to a full bath, the attic’s staircase, three bedrooms, and the master bedroom.

 

That was a room that Jim was overly pleased with. Sure, he could easily fit a king sized bed and several pieces of furniture inside the confines of the room, but the fact that he also got a walk-in closet and a master bath nearly had him keeling over with joy.

 

Simply put, it put his place in L.A. to shame.

 

And the view –  _Oh!_  The view from the deck!

 

Jim was sure that Barnett could see him swooning. There was a decent amount of yardage surrounding the home; enough that he’d need to buy a riding lawnmower, but the home also came with a few acres of the beautiful forest in it’s immediate surrounding.

 

Not to mention that it was only twenty minutes from Millhaven and it’s nearest neighbor was two miles away.

 

He could see Barnett hovering in his peripheral. “So, I feel like this is a stupid question but, what do you think?”

 

Jim turned to him, a jubilant grin on his face. “I’ll take it!”

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, fucking bottom feeders,” Nyota grumbled, aggressively switching off the TV in the middle of TMZ’s tirade. “They hound him non-stop for days without any break and then they’re  _confused_  as to why he disappeared? Fucking idiots.”

 

To say Nyota was livid over this whole situation was an understatement. She was beyond livid. Satan himself would be jealous of her level of anger at this point. Honestly, if she wasn’t so worried about the repercussions she would have tracked down every single person who caused Jim shit over the past several days and give each of them an in-person demonstration of her martial arts training.

 

Jim Kirk wasn’t just her charge, at least not anymore. Years ago when she had first taken him on she had been less than pleased about the assignment. He’d made a name for himself and not in a positive way either. She had been  _dreading_  their first meeting. She didn’t sign up to be an agent just to play babysitter for a pig-headed idiot. So it was easy to say that when Nyota stood outside the guy’s apartment for their introduction she was still trying to come up with any excuse to cancel the meeting…

 

…but then his door creaked opened and she was greeted to the sight of sweatpants, a warm smile, and black glasses with thick, coke-bottle lenses.

 

Sure, Nyota was still leery, but she decided to give him a chance.

 

And she had yet to regret it that chance. Yes, Jim still occasionally tried her patience, but it was a far cry from what she had expected and, besides, that’s what brothers did right?

 

Because that’s what Jim was to her. He was the brother who teased her about ridiculous things and who she teased right back. The brother who warned Spock that he’d worsen the wounds she’d give him if he ever did her wrong.

 

The brother that she would stand up for if anyone dared to go against him.

 

“Nyota…”

 

She huffed and looked over at Spock, who sat on their couch and lifted a hand as an invitation for her to join him. Taking his hand, she allowed him to pull her against his warm body.

 

A polar opposite to Jim, who was the whole Californian package, Spock Grayson - formerly known as S'chn T'gai Spock - was an L.A. oddity; incredibly pale with dark hair, but most of all he was a remarkably stoic man. More than once his collected composure had caused him to be on the receiving end of some rather insensitive comments revolving around him being a robot or a computer.

 

Even now, with his best friend at the center of the scandal of the century and M.I.A., he appeared far too composed despite the situation.

 

She - and Jim, for that matter - knew better. They knew that while the Canadian was extremely private, he cared deeply.

 

Because the world didn’t know that after Jim ended their call last night, Spock had locked himself in their personal gym for three hours as he beat the shit out of their punching bag, but she did. And she knew that he would do it again tonight, if the tense muscles underneath her were anything to go by.

 

“I just wish that there was something I could do,” she sighed. She felt his hand run down her side in a comforting manner as he pressed his lips against her hairline.

 

“That  _we_  could do,” Spock replied, before his chest heaved with a defeated sigh. “Aside from being there for Jim and honoring his request for time, there is not much else we can do.”

 

Nothing that wouldn’t stir the pot more.

 

Nyota clenched her jaw and twisted the soft material of Spock’s t-shirt in her fist, loathing the feeling of helplessness that consumed her. “ _God, I hate them so much._ ”

 

While the tightening of the arm around her waist did little to quell her frustration, the response was enough to remind her that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

 

Now if only the media could as well.

 

_…to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that this was a slow build??? There should only be one more chapter until the two dorks finally meet ;)


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not dead!!!! Just went on an unexpected hiatus :p
> 
> But boy am I happy to be writing again. Although I was not expecting this to be the thing that I would end up posting/updating. A Million Years or even a reader insert one shot, but not then…yet here we are!!!
> 
> ♦ Warnings: vulgarities, gossip, mentions of infidelity, mentions of harassing behavior

**_Among The Trees, The Fallen Rise Again || Part Four_ **

 

“Bye, Pav!” Jim waved at the kid as he exited Yorktown, dodging around a few guys and ignoring the looks he got.

 

It was a little busier since it was the lunch rush, but Pavel still returned the waved from where he was working the register. “Bye, Jim! And Congrats!” He shouted before darting over to help the new arrivals who, judging by the bits of sawdust on their clothes, were probably on break from logging. “Leo, Scotty, hi -”

 

Jim laughed and made his way to his car, an excited grin on his face as he pulled away from the curb.

 

Two days ago, Jim had applied to temporarily rent the ‘penthouse’ apartment before making an offer on the log mansion that was just over the listing price. He had wanted to low-ball an offer, but Barnett quickly axed that plan. The move-in ready place had been on the market for only a month, but, so far, all of it's offers had been below the listing price.

 

And, apparently, the owner was having none of that shit. The dude had turned down each and every ' _insulting_ ' offer for his masterpiece.

 

Since Jim was the first potential buyer to be able to offer more than the listing price, the realtor thought it was best to go over to maximize his chance at getting the home.

 

Last night, he got a call back from Barnett.

 

He wouldn't have to keep living out of the 'Beige Motel'.

 

Sure, he'd still have several weeks before he would be able to start moving in, but that wasn’t an issue. After a lengthy phone call, Jim managed to convince the owner of the apartment building to allow him to rent to the apartment

 

Grinning gleefully, Jim tapped his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat of the fading song.

 

Who would have thought that this blink-and-you-miss-it town in the middle of nowhere would be the new home of James Tiberius Kirk?

 

Heeding the stop sign before him, Jim took the opportunity to grab his sunglasses and slip them on before switching the station. Weather forecasts were just so boring, but classic rock? Driving on, he slipped easily into singing along to _Cherry Bomb_ as he searched for his turnoff.

 

Between conversations with Nyota, Spock, and Pavel, it wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion that he was going to need far more than what he packed in his bags for his new home...homes?

 

Not - not that he needed their input.

 

But they did give him ideas on various necessities.

 

One such necessity? Plants.

 

He had adored his little garden back in LA. Carefully probing the dirt as he gently placed each plant and seed. Meticulously watering each growth and pulling unwanted weeds as they sprouted. Scenting the soft fragrance of the various blossoms as they bloomed. Tasting each new vegetable as they ripened

 

If he was going live here, he needed something to brighten up the inside of his new homes.

 

Something to care for.

 

After a few more minutes, Jim found himself pulling into a small gravel lot and picking a spot near the front doors. Throwing the car into park, Jim leaned over the steering wheel to get a better look at the flower shop.

 

Demora's Nursery was located on the outskirts of Millhaven. The main building was a low, wood paneled structure with windows filled with various types of ferns. Behind it, three greenhouses stood attached, their opaque walls giving no clues as to what grew inside.

 

A small set of wind-chimes jingled as he entered the colorful shop, drawing the attention of a young Asian man working behind the counter. “Hello,” he greeted, a welcoming smile spread across his face. As he watched Jim make his way back, being careful not to knock over any of the potted plants, he questioned, “Can I help you find anything?”

 

“Hi! Uh, yeah, I think.” Jim scratched at the back of his head as the man gave him a questioning look. “I just bought a house in the area and I'm looking for some things to add a little life to it.”

 

He nodded and slid a pad of paper towards him. Grabbing a pen he said, “That I can help you with. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

 

Jim shrugged. “Eh, not really?” He never actually thought about what he wanted. “Sorry.”

 

He got a one-shouldered shrug in return. “Don't worry about it. Most people come in with the mindset of  _'I'll know it when I see it'_. Here,” he slid off his stool and came around the counter. “I'll show you around. You might have questions about some of the plants. Oh,” he stuck out his hand. “I'm Ben, by the way.”

 

Well, Ben turned out to be a savior sent to Earth. Not only did he know about every single plant he and his husband sold, he was also extremely helpful with giving Jim tips about an outdoor garden come the spring.

 

“We usually get the garden magazines around December. So you can either stop by then or an issue can be sent to you,” he informed, leading Jim into the second greenhouse. The nursery turned out to be divided by plant types – the main building that we are currently in, ferns and indoor trees; the first greenhouse, vegetables; and the final two, flowers.

 

“Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.”Jim tried to shove his sleeves up higher as the humid air assaulted his body. “I didn't know that nurseries stayed open during the winter.”

 

Ben shrugged, picking off a few dead leaves from some pots of roses. “Most don't. We're just one that likes to keep something in stock year round. Some things we get shipped in and some we work on growing, but we tailor the stock to the season. The spring and early summer is when we have the most outdoor plants; in the late summer, we transition to ones that do well indoors.”

 

Jim picked up a small pot of wildflowers. “That's nice.” He gave the flowers a sniff, a memory coming to him. “Hey, do you have any of those – shit, what are they called? They're the little white, bell-like flowers? I remember by grandparents in Iowa had some that grew wild. My gramps would always send us out to pick some for my grandma when we visited.” He smiled softly. “I always liked the smell of them.”

 

Ben's eyebrows knitted together in thought. “Do you mean the lily of the valley?”

 

Jim shifted the pot over to one hand and snapped his fingers. “Yes! Those! Do you have any of those?”

 

The other man chewed his lip. “Hmmmm, I don't know if we have any of those left. We definitely did, though. They grow like crazy during May and the loggers dig up a bunch for us.” He turned and headed for the doorway. “See, they grow really well in pots and we worked on growing them already in pots. I think my husband might know, though.” He stepped out and yelled into the narrow corridor, “Hey, Hikaru!”

 

“Yeah?” A voice responded from the third greenhouse.

 

“Do we have anymore pots of lily of the valley?”

 

“Yeah!” The man sounded closer and Jim rocked on his feet listening to the two talk. “They're in green house three toward th - ” The voice abruptly cut off and Jim looked up to see the other man, Hikaru, staring at him in shock. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

 

The blond felt himself go pale while panic flooded his veins. _Shit. Shit. SHIT!_

 

A confused Ben glanced between the two, but Hikaru kept his focus on Jim.

 

“You're Jim Kirk.”

 

With that, his husband looked aghast and Jim cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I – uh – I am.”

 

Hikaru ginned and strode forward, eager to shake his hand. “Oh, thank god! For a second I thought I had the wrong guy,” he babbled. “And, I don't know if you remember, but we actually met a few years ago.”

 

“Ah, thank you.” Still stunned, Jim squinted at the man. Now that he mentioned it, he did look familiar. It took a few seconds for the light-bulb to click. “That flight to New York -”

 

“- with the worst turbulence of your fucking life,” the Hikaru finished with a grin. “Yup! God, that was some scary shit.”

 

Jim shivered at the memory. “It fucking was!” His blue eyes widened at a realization. “Shit, you were the pilot! I bet that was even worse!”

 

“Yeah.” He put his hands on his hips as Ben stepped forward. “I thought we were gonna di -”

 

“- Excuse me?”

 

Jim and Hikaru found their heads twisting to the side at Ben’s interruption. The man in question was staring between the two with a look of befuddlement. Jim, at least, felt sheepish over excluding him; Hikaru, on the other hand, didn’t seem particularly concerned about the matter.

 

“Do you remember that flight I told you about?! The one I was assigned to when the original pilot got struck down with food poisoning?!”

 

Jim noticed the moment that the memory popped into Ben’s head. “The flight with the actors from Guardians of the Galaxy,” he said with his realization, his head turning to look at Jim.

 

Twin “ _Yups_ ” were what he got as a confirmation; only Jim’s was more on the bashful side as Hikaru took the gleeful tone.

 

“Wow…,” seemed to be the only thing Ben could say.

 

A few moments of silence settled over the three before a bemused chuckle escaped Jim. “Jesus,” he said, “I’ve been here for nearly a week, walking about town -” he let out another chuckle “- buying property, and you’re the first to recognize me by just seeing me.”

 

Ben smirked and sent a look at Hikaru. “Well, they don’t religiously watch Haven like this nerd.”

 

Hikaru pouted. “Hey, don’t knock Haven - Wait, you bought property here?”

 

“Ah, you caught that,” Jim said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’d been thinking about getting a place away from the city for a while now and with…” He trailed off, the distasteful discretion raging back into his mind like an untamed bull. Suddenly, he was on the receiving end of two pity filled faces.

 

“Shit, yeah, we saw that on the news. That’s -  _oof!_ ” Hikaru cut himself off and sent a glare at his husband for elbowing him in the ribs. Jim watched on with a pained heart as several seconds of silent communication passed between them before realization dawned across Hikaru’s face and he turned back to Jim full of remorse. “Shit! I am so sorry for bringing that up.”

 

“No, it’s - it’s fine.” He hated to admit it, but Jim had to swallow back a pit of despair, embarrassed that he allowed himself to become overwhelmed by  _them_ in public. Plastering on a smile, Jim did his best to ease their unease. “I slipped up with it and - and you were just trying to sympathize and -”

 

“Jim.”

 

He stopped talking, word vomit lodged in his throat at the appearance of hands settling on his shoulders, comforting and steady. He looked between the double pairs of brown, empathizing eyes and felt a delayed and all-encompassing tidal wave of relief wash through him, pricking at his own blue eyes.

 

Throughout his entire life, Jim had always needed to share - whether he wanted to or not. It went beyond sharing his food or his toys. No, he was expected to share his entire life. What’s his workout like? What gets his motor running? How hairy is his butt? What does he do every single moment of his day?

 

Majority of the time Jim had wanted to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business because did he seriously owe these strangers his entire personal life?

 

Yet, these two men, these two strangers, are asking nothing of him.

 

Perhaps the most vulnerable moment of his life and instead of joining the press and pestering him about the dirty details of the affair they’re standing as pillars of strength on either side of him.

 

Drawing in a ragged breath, a hurricane of emotion roaring in Jim’s chest as a lone tear sat glistening upon his cheek, lost in a sea of green and colors.

 

☼

 

Damn near tripping over his feet, Len’s head swiveled around in an attempt to keep the blond in his sight for as long as possible.

 

“Len.”

 

His gaze dropping past the fur collared bomber jacket to settle on a dark wash, jean clad butt seconds before it vanished from his view.

 

_“Len!”_

 

Len turned, brow raising at Scotty’s amused, knowing look. Unspoken of by all in the know, only Scotty truly knew Len’s interest knew no bounds.

 

Unbeknownst by the Scotsman, the perky young Pavel interrupted them before Len could level any sort of retort. “Leo, Scotty, hi! How was your morning?” He said the question while laying down their menus.

 

“Well enough, Lad. Say,” Scotty grew sly, flipping open his menu and shooting Len a wink. “Who was that that just left? Never seen ‘im around before.”

 

“Oh, that was Jim! The usual for drinks right?” Pavel chirped back without missing a beat. Len peered up, his curiosity piqued. In the corner of his eye, Scotty matched his nod of confirmation. When he darted off to go fetch their drinks, Len narrowed his eyes at his business partner.

 

He was only met with a smug grin.

 

“Here we go,” Pavel said, placing a tall glass of Coke before Len and one of Dr. Pepper before Scotty. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to think over your order -”

 

“No need.” Len waved a hand, cutting him off. “We already have an idea of what we want.” After sharing their orders, the young waiter left them for a few minutes to drop the ticket off in the kitchen. The two ended up conversing over their work at the cut before Pavel returned to their tableside, meals balanced on a large, black tray.

 

“Da, Jim is new to the area,” Pavel said, placing their food on the table before pulling a chair up to the side of the table.

 

Len blinked.  _Well he just cuts right to the chase._  “You know him?” He ignored the glance Scotty gave him; Yes, he was curious, but not because he was  _interested_ in the guy. At least, that’s what Len was telling himself.

 

Pavel merely shrugged, the white button up he had to wear for his shift wrinkling more with the action. “He came in for breakfast a few days ago and has come in to eat nearly everyday. Said he wanted a break from the city - actually this morning he said he was approved to buy a house in the area.”

 

Scotty let out a whistle. “Already bought a house? What’s he hiding from to just get to a place and buy a house?” Len snorted at the comment, but Scotty continued on before he could say anything. “Speaking of - Have ya heard the latest shit about Kirk?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Len took a big bite of his burger, savoring the taste of the cheese and bacon that coated his tongue. Ever since the news of the overrated actor freaking out and disappearing over his ex dating a new guy surfaced, Len has had to hear all about it from Scotty.

 

And he really doesn’t care.

 

Unfortunately for Len, Pavel _“I-Want-To-Be-An-Actor-Someday”_  Chekov does.

 

“Da!” Pavel said, voice coming out in an over-interested gasp.

 

So much for Len’s relaxing lunch. He settled into eating as the two began their mind-numbing discussion about the whole Hollywood debacle, fragments of their commentary occasionally cutting through his thoughts on the flavors dancing upon his tongue.

 

“Why suddenly contact them and act like a dick after days of silence?”

 

_God, what type of bacon is that? Brown sugar? Maple? Ah, who cares! It’s blessed by God anyways._

 

“Would you act that way over an ex, though?”

 

_Hot damn, they don’t go lightly on the brownie chunks in the shake!_

 

“It does beg the question: What falls faster? Stars or trees.”

 

“Like, why would -  _oh!_ ”

 

The sudden break off of words pulled Len from his food and had he and Scotty exchanging a glance before looking at Pavel…who appeared to be in the middle of a transcending thought.

 

“You okay, Pav?”

 

“Uh - Da! Da, I just remembered that I - I have a errand to run after my shift, da.” With that, the kid left, leaving Len and Scotty to exchange curious looks in his wake. Even when he returned with their checks, Pavel kept his words short and work related; the unusual behavior causing Len to question what more was going on.

 

_...to be continued_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!! 
> 
> +++++
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://goingknowherewastaken.tumblr.com/)!


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